


Direct Message

by anemptymargin



Category: American Actor RPF
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Rare Pairing, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lonely, old flings connect over Twitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Direct Message

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely Missy’s fault. She started it. Also, I keep coming back to these guys like some sort of drug. It’s scary.
> 
> Prompt: Kink Bingo: phonesex / epistolary

Kicked back in his trailer, skin still pink and stinging from massive makeup removal, Ted turned on his phone to see what he’d missed. A few emails, text message, nothing that couldn’t wait.  He flicked over to the Twitter app – several @mentions from fans he’d try to remember if he ever figured out anything to say. Three direct messages; spam, crazy person he didn’t know, and crazy person he did know… Bruce.

 

 **  
_Teddy? You’re tweeting again._   
**

**  
  
**

He smiled, boredom and his agent’s less than casual nudging having driven him back.

 

 **  
_You’re not even following me._   
**   


He replied to a few mentions before his phone throbbed hard, signaling a new message. Bruce again, fancy him being on so late.

 

 **  
_I don’t need to I check you anyway and you barely post_   
**

 

Yeah… well, what do you say? There’s nothing that interesting going on when he has the time to play on the net and when there is something interesting, who has the time?

 

 **  
_Nothing to say. Not all of us use it to flirt with strangers._   
**

 

Yeah, hit him where it hurts. The response was quick.

 

 **  
_I only do that live. You’d know if you came to my Q &As._   
**

**  
  
**

Of course, you can only hear the same handful of stories a hundred times before it takes more than drunkenly hitting on anyone with a pulse to maintain interest.

 

 **  
_I don’t have the stamina to watch you hit on fans_   
**

**  
  
**

Okay, it was a little low. Maybe. He deserved it after the last time. Ted waited a long moment before going back to his replies, figuring Bruce had given up on his DM teasing only to have it vibrate again nearly twenty minutes later.

 

 **  
_You know I only really mean it for very special people._   
**

**  
  
**

“Very special” being code for anyone he has eyes for, usually has a history with, and won’t get kicked out of his house for flirting with. He’s only a little proud to consider himself part of that group.

 

 **  
_Yeah, yeah. Keep saying that._   
**

**  
  
**

Getting comfortable, Ted relocated to the bed and curled up with his phone and a bottle of water. As expected, the next message came quickly.

 

 **  
_Your just jealous we haven’t in a while._   
**

**  
  
**

Possible, he definitely wasn’t jealous of his inability to tell the difference between ‘you’re’ and ‘your’.  It had been… well, years. Since the last time he’d been out to Oregon, which wasn’t exactly his style.

 

 **  
_I get by fine_   
**

 

It was mostly true. It wasn’t like he was holding out waiting for his call; there were far too many things to do, write, and see to really care too much about Bruce’s whims.

 

 **  
_You get by, but not by me_   
**

**  
  
**

That was… odd. Even for him. It didn’t really make any sense.

 

 **  
_What are you talking about? Are you drunk?_   
**

 

Another long wait. Ted closed his eyes and let the long day on set sink into his tired bones and flesh. And then another hard buzz.

 

 **  
_How long since you last did?_   
**

 

Ahh, a familiar question. He knew where that was going.

 

 **  
_Come on, Bruce – are you really hitting on me over Twitter?_   
**

**  
  
**

A longer wait followed by the chime of a text message followed by the DM buzz. Predictably, he checked the MMS message first – media file, yeah… classy, Bruce. Always classy. Thirty second video clip; white boxer-briefs, familiar hands folding down the waistband to show an entirely too familiar dick. His message didn’t make it any better.

 

 **  
_Special for you, come get it_   
**

 

He couldn’t help but smirk… and watch the clip again before responding.

 

 **  
_You come for me._   
**

**  
  
**

He realized a moment too late exactly what it sounded like he was saying… which wasn’t quite as dirty as what he actually was saying. Bruce’s response confirmed it.

 

 **  
_I will if you keep talking like that_   
**

**  
  
**

Ted shifted against his pillows, rolling onto his side for comfort. He was tired, but a little lonely too… and he did have a little bit of a point, it had been a while.

 

 **  
_Want me to call?_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_This is okay._   
**

**  
  
**

Strange, a little unexpected, but it was Bruce.

 

 **  
_Seriously, over Twitter?_   
**

 

Sure, why not. First time for everything, and judging from some of the crazy stuff he’d seen posted in public they weren’t the first by far.

 

 **  
_DMs are private. Too lazy to send another text._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Fine. You’re at home alone?_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Miami._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Pontiac. Gotta love Michigan in August._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Lotta memories up there._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_I remember. Don’t want to think about that past._   
**

**  
  
**

It was true. Ancient history, water under the bridge, and a good portion of things neither one of them really wanted to talk about.

 

 **  
_I want to think about making that trailer rock_   
**

**  
  
**

The thought made him smile, it wouldn’t be the first trailer they’d gotten moving… but that was a long time ago.

 

 **  
_I’m in bed._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_I have that effect. Naked?_   
**

**  
  
**

T-shirt and boxers? Check. But, for the fantasy it was okay to cheat a little.

 

 **  
_Yeah, just out of the shower when I saw your message._   
**

 

 **  
_Hot. Pix?_   
**

**  
  
**

He would ask. Unlike some people, he didn’t keep pictures of his genitals on his phone. Feeling the moment, he smirked and pushed back the blanket as he rolled onto his back again, parting his thighs before arranging himself somewhat presentably. How does one really make a penis look good for the camera?

 

Giving up on presentation, he ran his fingers over the length – teasing himself with the mental image of Bruce kicked back at his desk, pawing at himself. Somewhat pleased with the results, he snapped the picture and made sure it was only going to Bruce’s cell (damned touch screens increased the likelihood of an embarrassing encounter tenfold) before sending.

 

                                                **_Just one. Thinking about you._**

 

Sentimental, a little romantic. He didn’t add the bit where he was thinking about him with his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair doing things to himself that would make a prostitute blush.

 

Another long pause between messages, and then;

 

 **  
_I miss you_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_You miss that_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_And that. Mostly you._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_It’s a short flight from Miami._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Same goes for Detroit. I could get my boys to write you in as Sam’s ambiguously queer “friend”_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_I thought we were going sexy tonight?_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_We could do it first._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_And you’re 20 again._   
**

**  
  
**

It was mean, he knows Bruce means well; but their ship sailed well before the turn of the decade. The only thing that dwelling on it did was make it even stranger when they did mess around.

 

 **  
_I wish._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_You still want to try?_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Still hard?_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_A little._   
**

**  
  
**

Another mostly-truth. He crooked one knee up, setting the phone beside his head as he teased his fingers over the length – drawing it back up again before the familiar buzz sounded.

 

 **  
_Remember the one time you were under my desk?_   
**

**  
  
**

Did he? Talk about an incentive to meet page count for the day, the first book wouldn’t have been finished without his ‘executive input’ in the matter.

 

                                                **_You broke my glasses._**

 **  
  
**

Not even close to the first thing he remembered. He closed his eyes and thought about Bruce’s strong hand on his shoulder, hardness brushing against his lips – begging for his attention. Five pages for five minutes… made for a long afternoon, but he hadn’t had anything better to do and by the third hour he’d more than made count.

 

 **  
_I haven’t jazzed so hard in my life_   
**

**  
_*jizzed stupid autocorrect_   
**

 

He laughed, couldn’t help it. Forcing himself to concentrate he replied;

 

 **  
_I could make you jazz._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_You could make me do a lot of things, Teddy_   
**

**  
  
**

Okay, waxing sentimental again. He smiled fondly and continued to slowly stroke himself, typing with one hand on the touch screen.

 

                                                **_I could take you out in the woods again._**

 **  
  
**

Take, in every sense. Take in a river. In a tent. Against the front end of his big truck out in the middle of nowhere. It really made up for getting talked into a weeklong camping trip.

 

 **  
_I don’t know if you could handle it, city boy_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Handled it just fine before. I’m good at handling things._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_You are_   
**

**  
  
**

He stroked harder, milking out the first bits of wetness before snapping and sending another picture.

 

                                                **_Can you handle it?_**

 **  
  
**

Another drawn out response followed by another MMS video. A minute this time; hard stroking, not a tease but full on need.

 

 **  
_You left scratches on my hips and a dent in my truck._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_It’s been a long time. You made the dent, I helped._   
**

**  
  
**

That was the fun one, the first time he’d been bold enough to take control. Fumbling awkwardly, kissing him and pushing against each other waiting for something to happen until he managed to get Bruce’s jeans down around his ankles and turned him around. Excited, he pushed too hard and smacked his elbow against the hood, leaving a large dent that never got popped back out. Only Bruce would remember that well enough to bring it up.

 

 **  
_Made up for it though_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Hard to get jizz off chrome._   
**

**  
  
**

He couldn’t help but laugh, it was true. When they made it back to civilization he had to wash it twice to get everything cleaned off. Not a fond memory.

 **  
  
**

**  
_And jazz._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Fuck you. Fuck me._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Anytime, anywhere._   
**

**  
  
**

An empty threat, though he’d once made good on it by pulling him out of a movie theater during a showing of his own film.

 

He stroked harder, thinking about that night. Bruce had come in jeans, some horrible western shirt with a bolo tie. He felt out of place against him in his subdued suit and tie; like a business man blending in with the B-List audience. Bruce had caught him off guard when he arrived, pulling away from Ida long enough to whisper in his ear; “You’re mine. Tell me when.”

 

An hour later, he slipped out of his seat to the back of the theater where Bruce looked like he had drifted off. Thinking he’d called his bluff, Ted had bent down and whispered in his ear; “Men’s room.”

 

                                                **_Men’s room, second stall. Against the door._**

 **  
  
**

Slow response was good; it meant he wasn’t the only one who remembered it. Hard to forget Bruce’s hands covering his mouth as he was hammered against the stall door, stroking himself until he came against the cold red metal. And then collecting themselves, murmuring and kissing – almost getting caught – and returning back to their quite separate seats with a slight limp in his step.

 

 **  
_Ooh god_   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Bite marks on my shoulder._   
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Teddy_   
**

**  
  
**

The single word was enough. He was there. Squeezing his palm harder, he stroked deliberately; another MMS pinging that he didn’t need to see – Bruce’s hand, slick with come, probably drooling down into his shorts.

 

He stroked faster, base to tip – eyes closed, biting down into his tongue – recalling Bruce’s mouth working at his throat, stroking him dry while his strong body kept him pinned against the wall thrusting until he was bruised. And then warm tension knotting his muscles as he came against his belly – catching the edge of his t-shirt.

 

With shaking hands he managed another undignified picture that would be deleted come morning and sent it off before sending one last DM.

 

                                                **_Maybe you can try calling tomorrow so you can hear it._**

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


End file.
